


Star Trek short comedy skits

by BlueSakura007



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Comedy, Humor, Sketches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSakura007/pseuds/BlueSakura007
Summary: This is going to be a collection of short Star Trek comedy sketches written whenever I feel like it, based on skits that I’ve seen on YouTube.~ There’ll be relationship tags and more character and fandom ones added as I go along.  ^^
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. ENT - Elevator Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip and Malcolm get a lot more trouble than they bargained for when they try using the Enterprise’s new turbolift voice recognition.

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed and his fellow crew member and close friend, Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III, entered the Starship Enterprise's turbolift after patiently waiting for it for a couple of brief seconds, but the Lieutenant immediately noticed upon entering that something was wrong. Something was off, a sort of feeling that there was something unusual going on, and then it just took him half a second to realise what.  
"Where are the buttons?"  
"Oh yeah, I meant to tell ya. Apparently voice recognition technology's been installed and they've gotten rid of the buttons." Replied Trip as the door smoothly slid shut, while he pointed up towards the ceiling where, sure enough, there was a voice detector.  
  
"'Voice recognition technology'? In a lift?" The Englishman asked in confusion and not being able to really see the point in it. "On a starship? In space?"  
"Yep." The Commander nodded in response. "Eleven." He tried out the voice recognition technology himself, smiling as he was hoping it'd be as efficient and cutting-edge on starships as the rest of the fleet had said, especially since he was the chief engineer, so he was supposed to always see the technical side of things.  
" _Could you please repeat that?_ " The feminine electronic voice said.  
"Eleven." Malcolm tried to see if it would detect what he was saying as well.  
" _Could you please repeat that?_ "  
"Eleven." The American repeated like he'd done the first time. "Eleven."  
" _Could you please repeat that?_ "  
"El-lev-en!" He spoke more slowly.  
  
"Whose idea was this?" Sighed Lieutenant Reed in annoyance. "It obviously doesn't recognise our accents, because mine's British and yours is Southern. Let me try speaking with a different American accent..." He cleared his throat. "E-leven." And then he said this in an attempt at an American accent, but was mostly failing badly. "E-leven."  
"Where in America's that? Dublin?" Trip raised one of his eyebrows at what it sounded more like.  
" _I'm sorry. Could you please repeat that?_ " The technology spoke again in a monotone voice.  
"I think I'll have to try an English accent. Maybe that'll work for me..." The engineer suggested, and then gave it a shot, "Eelevin."  
All the tactical officer next to him could do was do an epic mental facepalm.  
"Eelevin."  
"Are you from the same part of England as Dick van Dyke was, then?" Malcolm remarked at him making a futile attempt to put on an English accent.  
"Have you got any better ideas, smartass?" Retorted the commander.  
" _Please speak slowly and clearly._ " The voice recognition still had no clue.  
  
"Eleven." Trip continued in his normal accent. "Eleven. Eleven. Eleven!"  
"You're just saying it the same way!" Reed was on the verge of losing it.  
"I'm gonna keep sayin' it this way until it understands my voice!" The Southerner told him while becoming just as frustrated with their situation. "Eleven! El-lev-en!"  
"Oh for god's sake take us anywhere! Just open the doors!" The British male was almost yelling at it now.  
" _This is a voice activated elevator. If you would like to get out of the elevator without selecting a floor, simply say 'open the doors, please'_." The technology's voice told him serenely.  
"'Please'? Are you actually serious? We have to say 'please' to a LIFT?" Malcolm actually physically placed his hand onto his forehead. "I'm NOT going to start begging that thing."  
"It's worth a try." Reasoned Trip, and looked up at the ceiling towards where the voice detector was. "Please? Pleeease?"  
"'Pleease'." The British tactical officer mimicked him irritably but quietly, in a much more childish voice.  
" _You have not selected a floor. Please select which floor you would like to go to in a clear and calm manner._ "  
"'Calm'? Where's that coming from? Why would something like this be telling people to remain calm?!" The Lieutenant asked in frustration.  
"'Cause the guys who installed this in the first place KNEW that they'd be selling this to people with different accents who'd be goin' BALLISTIC at it!" The other man beside him was gaining the same level of anger, as the voice recognition tech clearly only recognised a different American accent to his and didn't recognise English ones at all. So much for being so 'efficient'.  
  
" _Please remain calm._ "  
"OH MY GOD!" This was all it took to push Commander Tucker over the edge, and he quickly, fuelled by his fiery temper, climbed up onto the now somewhat startled Reed's shoulders to get closer to the technology on the ceiling. "Just wait for it to speak!"  
A few seconds of complete silence passed except for the engineer's heavy breathing.  
" _You have not selected a floor._ "  
"SCREW YOU!" Bellowed Trip at it. "If you don't let us outta here, I'm gonna come back to Earth, I'm gonna find whatever desperate actress gave ya a voice, and I'm gonna start using the ELECTRIC CHAIR!"  
"England and Florida united!" Yelled Malcolm in agreement as he released his pent up anger while struggling to remain with the Commander on top of his shoulders.  
"YEAH! FLOOOOORIDAAAAAAAAA!"  
" _ **FREEDOM!**_ " The pair hollered at the very top of their lungs together, but what they didn't realise until a few moments after they'd been seen was that the turbolift door had just slid open, revealing Ensign Hoshi Sato to be standing there waiting for it, and what made the situation even more embarrassing was the fact that the Captain, Jonathan Archer, was also stood there waiting for the lift. And both he and Hoshi were looking at the engineer and the tactical officer as if they were absolutely crazy.  
  
After noticing this, two painful seconds of silence went by while Trip got down from the Briton's shoulders.  
"Goin' up?" He asked Ensign Sato and Captain Archer, pointing at the ceiling again whilst he and Malcolm were both grinning sheepishly.


	2. DS9 - Good Cop, Romulan Dad Cop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Odo and Lt. Lerina Zielinski find themselves facing a difficult criminal, it’s time to bring out the big guns. And by ‘big guns’ I mean a relative of Lerina’s...

In the brig of Deep Space 9, Constable Odo and the Starfleet engineering officer Lieutenant Lerina Zielinski, a maternally half-Human hybrid, walked into the room with the latter following close behind the Changeling. In the middle of the room, a handcuffed Risian man named Duril was sitting in a white chair in front of a matching table, where two currently empty identical chairs were located on the opposite side.

“So then,” Odo began, addressing the Risian. “You’re clearly seen on the surveillance footage robbing the latinum registers in Garak’s Clothiers, we found twenty strips of gold-pressed latinum in your shuttle, and my colleague Lieutenant Zielinski witnessed it with her own eyes, and yet you’re still denying this act? It’s plain to see, so why can’t you just confess?”

Duril responded casually with, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on Duril, we’re trying to make things easy for you here!” Said Lerina.

“So... you two’ve tried the ‘good cop’ half of this tactic of yours, so what do you plan on doing now? Are you going to make some kind of attempt at making me scream for mercy with a bad cop?”

“You’ll see.” Replied Odo, somewhat sinisterly, while Lerina was also smiling in the background, before he turned slightly towards the door behind them. “You can come in now, Vralmik - he’s all yours.”

The door then opened as another man stepped through. Specifically, a Romulan man who was generally clean-cut in terms of appearance and stood at about six feet and one inch tall.

“Good evening, Constable.” This Romulan, Vralmik, said amiably with a small smile.

“Hi dad.” The only female in the room greeted him, showing her own friendly smile.

“Hello Lerina.” His tone was partially softer this time as he responded to his daughter, and then two or three seconds later his demeanour did a complete 180 as he approached Duril and proceeded to smack him upside the head with the back of his hand as hard as he could, earning a yelp.

“He can’t be allowed to do that!” The Risian turned to Lerina and Odo, obviously visibly startled.

“Really? When I came to the Federation forty years ago I was told that every citizen was free to do whatever they wished in life!” Retorted Vralmik; a threatening scowl adorned his face. “I’ve seen your file. In fact, your uncle and I had a nice, long talk about it.”

Duril was silent for a couple of seconds, his eyes going wide in worry. “You spoke to uncle Nekris...?”

“That’s right. Are you trying to kill your family with shame?” The Romulan’s voice volume picked itself up a few notches.

“Uncle Nekris doesn’t need to know about this!” He pleaded.

“It’s too late - he knows all about this, and he thinks you’re just as much of a ruffian as I do.” Vralmik smacked him across the head again, only twice this time.

“Are you ready to confess yet?” Asked Odo as he and Lerina sat down in their own chairs.

“Confess to what?” Said Duril innocently.

“To being a disappointment.” Vralmik stared directly into his soul and shook his head disapprovingly.

“I’m not a disappointment!”

“Well then you should see the state of your shuttle’s cockpit; I’ve never seen such disarray in my life! See for yourself, it’s in this photo!” He pulled out a hand-sized picture from one of his pockets.

“It also happens to be a photo of where Constable Odo found the twenty strips of gold-pressed latinum that you stole.” Added Lerina. She was still continuing to gain pleasure from watching this interrogation method unfold.

“I speak seriously when I say that your mother and father are the real victims here, Duril - I would have thought they’d have taught you about neatness and how to preserve it at least partially by now.”

“Well, it’s technically **_Garak_** who’s the _real victim_ here-“ Odo began, but when he looked up and realised that Vralmik was now staring directly into his own soul and displaying another threatening scowl, he stopped speaking and shrank back slightly into his chair, realising that the best thing to do was to just let him do the job he’d been brought here to do.

“Tell me, what are you planning to do with the latinum strips?” Vralmik leaned down towards Duril and readopted his initial gentle demeanour.

“What latinum strips?”

“ ** _The latinum strips_** that you _stole_.” He hissed these first three words aggressively through his teeth before instantly calming down again. “After all, you can hardly just leave it lying around. You really should put it towards some land or a property: one of my wife’s acquaintances is due to move from Earth soon, so she’s made her property there available for purchasing.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Come now, I can secure you a rather good deal. I’ve seen for myself that it’s got a hot tub in the back garden and simply beautiful rose beds, and the entire property only costs twenty strips of gold-pressed latinum.” Vralmik smiled sweetly.

Duril was silent for another few tantalising moments before leaning closer and whispering to him in response, “Is there a contract I can sign?”

“Got you.” The Romulan’s smile grew wider into a sly grin before his louder voice volume once again kicked itself into effect, “This is for stealing the latinum...” He smacked his head as hard as possible again twice in a row, causing another yelp. “And this is for being such a disappointment!” This time he did three, and immediately afterwards he picked Duril up out of the chair by his right ear and towards the door.

“Where are you taking me?!”

“To return the latinum and apologise to Mr. Garak!” Vralmik shouted back. “Have a good night Constable, and goodbye for now, Lerina.” He did the 180 turn on his demeanour and was amiable again as he said this to the pair still sitting down behind him.

“Thanks dad. You’ll say hello to mum for me won’t you?”

“Of course.” He answered Lerina with that genuine smile back on his face, and then the aggressive demeanour was back again as he addressed Duril, continuing to drag him out of the door by his ear. “Come on you scoundrel!”

Within another few seconds, the door slid shut again behind Vralmik and Duril, and they were now gone.

“Perhaps we should do this more often.” Odo, still thinking ‘wow’ regarding what he’d just seen, commented.

“Agreed.” Lerina nodded in addition, and then a pair of smiles fully spread out across both of their faces as she held out the palm of her hand to the right and Odo slapped his own left hand down onto it as a low five.


	3. ENT - The Swear Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a new policy is added at the 602 Club to raise money, Trip and Jonathan ultimately end up being perhaps the biggest contributors.

In the dark depths of mid-evening in Mill Valley, San Francisco, an establishment by the name of the 602 Club was once again in full swing, this being nothing out of the ordinary for this time of day; it was a ritual of sorts. Everywhere throughout the bar, men and women were either stood up or sat together at the tables, chatting idly in between taking sips from their respective beverages and, overall, they were contributing to the club’s general carefree and pleasurable atmosphere - in addition, because of this establishment being near to the Starfleet facility a couple of blocks away, a few of these men and women were clad in its uniforms, having just finished work until tomorrow. Once again, neither of these factors were out of the ordinary. 

The door leading to the outside, being located in the corner of the same wall where the bar itself was, opened, letting in a little smidge of the cold air and a few drops of the rain, which was falling to the ground from the sky on the narrow threshold between being soft and chucking it down. Another thing that this door let in was a male human whose hair was slightly damp from the aforementioned current weather.

“Evening, Tucker!” The barmaid, whose brown hair was wild with many bouncy curls, greeted the newcomer with a smile.  
“Evenin’, Ruby.” The man she’d just addressed responded just as amiably, walking up to the bar. “I’ll have a [BEEP]ing cold beer, the [BEEP]ing usual.” 

“Now watch it, Trip, you’ll have to mind your language in here from now on. Look.” Ruby lightheartedly scolded him before pointing with one of her index fingers at a rectangular-shaped container on top of the bar, next to where she was standing, which he read out,  
“‘Swear box’, that’s a [BEEP]ing good idea. Is it for charity?” 

“It’s for funding that new engine product you and those other engineers at Starfleet are making, 5¢ for every profanity.” 

“Well, you’re probably gonna get a [BEEP]ing fortune outta me, then.” Trip joked. 

“You’re right there, you already owe me 20¢.” Said Ruby.  
“Twenty [BEEP]ing cents?” His eyebrows raised themselves slightly.  
“It’s twenty-five now!” 

“Okay, alright then, have ya got any [BEEP]ing change for a dollar?” He reached into one of his uniform’s breast pockets. 

“You won’t _need_ much change if you carry on like this.” The curly haired waitress remarked, adding a small chuckle at the end of her sentence as she took the one dollar bill from his now outstretched hand, putting it into the swear box, and then turned around to reach for the box of change on one of the shelves behind the bar, after handing him a cold beer bottle. He then removed another couple of dollars for this bottle. 

“Evening all.” Another male voice spoke out from the door, also walking in from the rain outside in a Starfleet uniform, although for his, the coloured piping at the shoulders was yellow, which indicated that he belonged to the command division, whilst Trip’s was red because of him being from the operations division. 

“Evenin’, sir.” The latter replied to Jonathan Archer while collecting his change. 

“Hey Trip.” He greeted his friend specifically as he, too, approached the bar. “I ended up having a [BEEP]ing grape Heimlich’d out of me a couple of hours ago - that’s all you [BEEP]ing need.” The superior officer recounted the most prominent event of his day whilst leaning against the bar with his left elbow.  
“I need 10¢ from you now, Mr. Archer.” Informed Ruby. 

“Yeah, they’ve got a [BEEP]ing swear box in here now.” Trip added. 

“That’s a pretty [BEEP]ing good idea.” The older of the two men nodded his head in agreement with its implementation. 

“It’s for that warp engine we’re workin’ on, 5¢ a time.” 

“They’re quite right to put this swear box in here, too; it’s about time you and the others got some more money for the [BEEP]ing budget.” Said Jonathan.  
“That’s 20¢.” Ruby reminded him of the total he’d now reached.  
“Twenty [BEEP]ing cents?” He repeated in surprise.  
“That’s what I [BEEP]ing said, too!” Appended Trip.  
“Yeah, ‘cause first you said [BEEP] twice and then you [BEEP]ing said it twice again and that means you’ve [BEEP]ing said [BEEP] four times so it’s now twenty [BEEP]ing cents like you said, but you’ve just [BEEP]ing said it again so now it’s twenty-five cents!” She explained. “Anyway, what’ll you have?” 

“A cold beer please, Ruby.” He reached into his own breast pocket and pulled out a couple of dollars to pay for it, putting them down onto the bar. “And then we’re going to take this swear box over here, and me and Trip are going to have a decent and civilised [BEEP]ing conversation.” 

After the duo had sat down at one of the tables a couple of feet away, with the swear box between them on the surface of this table and with their cold beer bottles in their hands, the younger one out of the pair queried, “So, how’s your [BEEP]ing love life, Jon?” 

“Pretty much [BEEP]ing non-existent right now. What about yours?” 

“Nothin’ too grand either.” 

“As in yours is non-existent too?” Archer asked. 

“Yeah, [BEEP]ing basically.”  
Ruby, approaching their table, tutted to herself and shook her head as she poured 80¢ worth of coins in total into the swear box from a small plastic packet she was holding, this amount being Jonathan’s, Trip’s and hers combined, and then she walked away again at the same speed. 

“Good evening, everyone.” All three of them turned their heads to see the owner of this new voice from the doorway which swung shut again behind him as he entered into the 602 Club.  
”Evening, sir.” Jonathan greeted Maxwell Forrest, a flag officer whose rank was superior to his and whose coloured shoulder piping was red and white to be indicative of this, along with the two white bands around the uniform’s wrists. 

“Evening, gentlemen.” He walked up to the bar. “A glass of bourbon, please.” The female nodded at his request and began preparing it, during which Forrest then approached the duo’s table. “Well, it certainly looks like the swear box is pretty full.” 

“Ruby said it’s all goin’ to the new engine me and the rest of the technical crew are makin’.” The Southerner told him. 

“That’s a nice surprise isn’t it, sir?” Said Jonathan. 

“A surprise? I’m the [BEEP]er who [BEEP]ing came up with the idea in the first place!” Maxwell sat down at the spare chair in between them, laughing as he did so, and then he pulled out two nickels from one of his own pockets and put them through the slot in the swear box whilst Trip and Archer were both laughing with him as well. 


End file.
